Summoning Light

over occupied world bewildering hodge-podge of people pushing stress where it ought not to be in the slim rays of late day in the splattered mess of guttered streets a homeless man asks for a light for a half burnt cigarette then money for food nerve knotted living squeezed between soiled fingers his fingers most shove by him like gnats late for breeding people in pinup poses keep silent midst foul displacement shun soiled annoyance like shoddy prospects does a story untold, matter? does all humanity deserve recognition? maybe things just fall apart all on their own maybe once there was a time when lushness oozed like honey from a jar homeless man seeks a light unflagging energy to be seen girdled by grit a real mission not to wipe away self like crumbs from a plate sometimes we move in gray clouds a pretense, unseeing squalor as vagabond pleas jar at comfort our aligned security by uttering "No" such feel good factors defending synthetic spheres that peer at screens as light loses traction Poem composed April 12, 2023